A Call To Arms!
by Tribute1
Summary: A young moon elf bladesinger answers Seiveral Miritar's call.


Snowed in today so I wrote this short story this afternoon. Just a one shot story. Hope you enjoy!

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A young female moon elf hurriedly went through the chest that held her possessions. She threw extra clothing and a few small personal items into a pack. She shut the trunk as quietly as possibly. Her journey would be a long and arduous one. She was sure her grandmother and house matriarch would not approve of her action. Continue your training! You are not ready! You are still a child, you haven't even reached your first century yet! She had heard the lecture more times than she cared to remember. She walked over to a table and ran her hands over a small leather-bound book. Its contents contained several spells she had come to learn.

Lady Dhariana Silverspear, a bladesinger apprentice, was preparing for war. After hearing Seiveral Miritar's speech, her heart was set aflame. Demons had not only dare to attack Evermeet but their kin on the continent were now in danger. Her choice was clear. A bladesinger's first duty was to protect the People. There was no more for her to learn at the Tower of the Sky.

The Sky Tower was one of the many new ones, magically grown from the earth to replace the Towers of the Sun and Moon. Her grandfather was an instructor there. From him, she first learned to reach out and touch the weave to work the wonders of magic. Eldrecoth Silverspear was one of the leading mages on Evermeet now. Her grandmother, Tyllaetha was a legendary bladesinger among the people, a moonblade bearer no less.

As a child, she loved to listen to the tales of her grandmother's exploits on the continent and now she would have her own adventures. No longer a dream. She took one more look around her room in her family's estate. Walking to window and gazing out on the lush greenery, her eyes teared up. Evermeet was a part of her soul as it was every elf who walked her blessed lands, leaving would be difficult.

"Were you even going to say goodbye?", the familiar voice startled her as she closed her eyes. She should have made haste. Now, she would never be allowed to leave. She turned to face her formidable grandmother, the living legend Lady Tyllaetha Silverspear. To her surprise, her grandmother's eyes held no hardness. Her deep blue eyes only reflected love and patience.

"Grandmother, I..."Tylleatha waved her hand, silencing her impetuous granddaughter.

"Follow me please," she said turning and leaving the room. Her deep green robes with silver highlights moved about ethereally as she walked down the hall. Dhariana followed her grandmother, all hope fading. She too was dressed in the colors of House Silverspear.

Tylleatha silently led the young elf down a staircase and into an underground room on the estate. Roots of a tree casually lined the walls of the room. Her grandmother's trophy room. Here displayed on the walls were the heads of every evil species known to the elves, all slain by Tyllaetha herself. In the center of the room lay the moonblade, Thoerl. The blade was the crest of HouseSilverspear. In the corner was a gleaming suit of elven chain armor. There were various items laying about. The treasures of House Silverspear.

Tyllaetha turned and looked at her granddaughter. Dhariana looked away from her grandmother's penetrating gaze. She could not bear disappointing her.

"Grandmother, I only wished to aid our kin on the mainland. We cannot..."

"Do you think I do not know what its like to be young? To dream of the glorious adventures?", she asked interrupting her granddaughter. " I was once young and foolish. I..."

"Is it foolish to answer the call of the battle?," Dhariana said with more anger than she intended. "Grandmother, we have to fight the demons. We..."

"Enough, child!," Tyllaetha said sharply. She exhaled sharply. "The young always interrupting their elders," she continued circling her granddaughter before coming to stand before her. Dhariana dropped her head. Tyllaetha gently lifter Dhariana's chin, looking her directly in the eye.

"As I said, I was once young. I know what you feel, my granddaughter. The call to adventure, the call to glory," she turned and walked to the moonblade. She lifted it high, swinging it back and forth. "Years and experience have granted me wisdom."

Dhariana dropped her head again. Here comes the lecture, she thought. The older female cleared her throat which forced Dhariana to look at her again. Tyllaetha arched her eyebrow, silently chastising Dhariana.

"Years and experience, young one," she continued. "They have granted me an insight I would not have thought possible when I was your age. I have wisdom enough to know when my days of adventure are over. The call of Arvandor grows sweeter each day. My time on Evermeet and Faerun are coming to an end."

Dhariana stepped toward her grandmother, wanting to disagree with her. She was several centuries old that much was true, but she was still vital and strong. In their practice fights, Tyllaetha held her own against opponents many years younger. The young elf stepped toward her grandmother, but the old female held out the sword stopping her. Dhariana looked at her confused.

"In your haste to leave, you forget something," the Silverspear matriarch said, holding out the moonblade, pommel first. Dhariana stood there, the shock of her grandmother's words falling on her. Tyllaetha looked at her with love and pride beaming in her eyes. There was also a sadness. "If you must travel Faerun and answer Lord Miritar's call, then you will be armed accordingly. Many a demon or devil have fallen to Thoerl and many more will yet!"

"I choose you as my blade-heir," she said. Tears of pride welled in her eyes. "You well know the risks involved," she finished extending the blade out further. Dhariana slowly inched closer. She had seen a claiming ceremony only once. The would be bearer was incinerated, the blade rejecting him. She reached out and catiously took the pommel, eyes closed. She could hear her grandmother's sharp intake of breath. She could feel the blade warm her to core of her being.

It felt like coming home. She could feel the blade's sense of duty. How it ached to taste the blood of demons and devils again. The sword itself was alive. She felt as though this sword was always went to be hers. Together, they would make a deadly team. She slowly opened her eyes and she was bathed in an eerie blue glow. She was now the bearer of a moonblade.

"It is done," Tyllaetha beamed with pride. The elder female and her young granddaughter embraced. Tyllaetha pulled away first. She pointed to the suit of armor in the corner.

"It has been too long that this has hung here. It is yours as well, granddaughter."

The moonblade was gift enough but to have the honor of wearing her grandmother's elven chain armor. She could not speak, the words would not form. She cried tears of joy as her grandmother helped her dress.

"Perfect fit," Tyllaethat said as she stood back and looked on her granddaughter with pride. "The hour grows late, you will have to ride most of the night to make Elion by morning. I've had a moonhorse packed with rations for your journey. Go with my blessing, Dhari." She used her childhood nickname. Dhariana embraced her grandmother once more and then proudly walked out of House Silverspear's dwelling.

The moonlight illuminated the grove around their estate beautifully. There was a stunning silver colored horse waiting for her. Upon seeing her, the horse trotted forward and lowerd it's neck. She gracefully climbed atop the horse and rode towards Elion. Wiping the tears that flowed from her eyes. She would make her house proud. She would add to legend of House Silverspear, she thought as she sped toward the future and her destiny.


End file.
